


Silence

by implausibleoutcome (RyanTheTwit)



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: 2nd Person, Drabble, Minor Character Death, Multi, One Shot, Second Person, The reader can be male or female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheTwit/pseuds/implausibleoutcome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You let him write poetry into your cheeks, you let him carve unspoken words into your lips; you let him speak more words in that one moment than he ever could in a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

You would often come up to the roof of your apartment complex when you needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. You would come up to the roof when you just couldn’t breathe and the whole world was hazy. You would come up here when you couldn’t stop your mind from running everywhere. It was simple, but it was yours.

But one day, that special place couldn’t stop your labored breathing. The world wouldn’t stop spinning and shaking. The city below wouldn’t become clear of the haze. For the first time, your own special place couldn’t help you.

Of course, you were startled when you felt hands on your shoulders. But when _he_ looked at you with a look of understanding, you let him lead you back into the crisp, calm air of the rooftop. You opened your mouth to say something- a name, explanation, something, but he shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

No talking.

When he sat next to you, feet dangling haphazardly over the edge; you knew a rule had been set.

To be honest, you should’ve been more cautious. A complete stranger sitting next to you on a very real roof, with feet over a very real street, but you trusted him.

The next day you arrived at the roof, and you saw the boy from yesterday. You nodded at him, determined to keep that unspoken rule intact. He let out a sigh, letting you know he had understood you. You sat next to him, dangling your feet over the edge once more. No words exchanged, just silence.

You went up to the rooftop everyday after that, sitting in silence as you observed the people and machinery below. You could tell from a look whether or not he’s had a bad day, and vice versa.

You tried to tell yourself that the fingers brushing yours on bad days are just for comfort.

When you saw the boy heaving in short breaths and a panicked look in his eyes, you comforted him. You lead him back under the starry skies in the Austin heat hand in hand, just as he had done for you on that very first day upon meeting.

You never quite let go of him.

Through expressions and planned meetings (Not dates, you had insisted.) you learned quite a lot about each other. The first thing he told you was his name. He lived in an apartment complex, the same where you lived. He had a little sister who is going to primary school. He had owned two dogs.

The roof was a safe haven for him. It turned out he saw you go up to the roof, and found himself climbing the ladder up and he never quite left the same person.

You talked with him often, but on the roof, silence was blissful.

The next time you saw him struggle to breath, struggle to rise from the haze, you decided to be daring and gather him into your arms. He calmed down eventually, but he didn’t let go. You didn’t flinch away when he set a careful hand on your shoulder and slowly drag it up your neck and onto your ear, running his fingers on the top of it. You didn’t protest when you traced your brow bone, fire trailing after. You let him write poetry into your cheeks, you let him carve unspoken words into your lips; you let him speak more words in that one moment than he ever could in a year.

You knew what he meant, but never broke the silence.

But that was a long time ago. You never went back to the roof for months. Refusing to believe what had happened.

Accident. Wreck. Havoc. Gone.

A drunk driver, his mother explained. Went to pick up sister from school, death upon impact.

On the last day of the year, minutes from the end, you climbed that ladder for, you knew, the last time, and you opened your mouth as you sat on the edge. There was no one to stop you. No boy to insist silently to keep that rule unbroken. No boy to drag you back to the quiet rooftop where you spilled secrets as if they were nothing. It didn’t matter. You had expected him to pop up with a grin, a frown, a blank face, anything after the news. But days and days of the most painful silence you had ever experienced hardened you. He wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t going to tell stories of his day from just from his posture. He wasn’t going to make your skin burn from a touch. He’ll never see the starry night sky, burning in the sweltering heat of Austin. So you shattered the silence.

“I love you.”

You hoped you wouldn’t regret uttering those words.


End file.
